CHAPTER XIII
THE RAID ON ESSEN
A new triplane of great climbing power and high speed came to theairdrome. Joe Little fell in love with it. Twice he took it onbombing expeditions and twice returned with reports of real damageto enemy supply stations and communications.
One night round the dinner table the boys of Joe's squadron planneda raid of some magnitude, and later asked permission to carry it intoeffect. It was a scheme to drop a load of bombs on the great Kruppworks at Essen. This had been done by one or two individual fliersfrom Allied units, but the boys planned that with six of the newtype triplanes, if they could be procured, a really effective raidon the great German productive center could be carried out.
The commanding officer did not disapprove the idea, but passed itabove him for approval from headquarters. The boys had worked outthe details carefully, and were keen on their project. At lastpermission came. Booth, one of the most experienced aviators onthe western front, was to pilot one of the two triplanes of thenew type that had been allotted to the airdrome, and Joe Littlethe other. The four other big bombing machines that were to goon this mission were to be sent from another air station nearby.Joe was pleased to be able to take Harry Corwin as his companion,and none of the twelve men who had been selected for the expeditionworked harder over the plans and the maps than these two Brightonboys.
At last the night selected for the raid came. It was a study tosee Joe Little inspect a machine before a flight, but on this occasionhe went over the big plane with extra care. He stood by the rightside of the tail for a minute chatting to Harry and then the twoboys went over every detail of the machine. While one fingered thetail skid bolt the other examined the safety cable on the tail skid.Stabilizer, elevator, and rudder were gone over carefully. Controlwires were gone over for their full lengths and their pulleys tried.Brace wires were felt for slackness, from the tail to the inside ofthe fuselage. The control wires to the ailerons, the pulleys andthe hinges, nothing escaped the eyes of Joe Little.
Each blade of the propeller he searched for a minute crack. Everynut and bolt on the propeller he tried.
When in the machine and safely buckled to their seats, Joe ran hisengine a bit, to satisfy himself that she was producing just theright music. The other five triplanes had been waiting. When Joehad satisfied himself that his machine was in perfect condition theword was given for the start. A series of staccato pops announcedthat the whole fleet was getting under way and they were soon circlingthe hangars and climbing off in the direction of the trenches. Thelong journey had begun.
The night was moonlit and the stars were bright. Not a cloud was tobe seen. A fog obscured some of the low ground over which thesquadron had to pass, but they steered by compass, keeping perfectformation. Finally the silver Rhine wound below them. Turning,they followed the river until Coblenz was reached, then turned northagain. Germany's great manufacturing centers were passing belowthe squadron now, one after another. The countless fires of monsterfurnaces and factories, thousand upon thousand, glared into the night.The tall chimneys and furnace stacks belched forth red, yellow, andwhite flame as the munition works were pressed to their utmost toproduce the sinews of war for the guns along the line over whichthe squadron had come.
By a certain point of identification all of the fliers knew Dusseldorfwhen that large factory center was reached. So far they had not seenan enemy plane. Essen was not far ahead now. Searchlights had beensemaphoring over more than one town they had passed, but not untilthey had come over Dusseldorf did any of the Hun eyes from belowsee them. At Dusseldorf they were spotted and a veritable hail ofanti-aircraft shell was hurled skyward. The signal to climb higherwas given and they were soon out of reach of the "Archies."
As they approached Essen the fires from thousands of furnaces lit upthe whole country round. Below them was the very heart ofshell-production and gun-making. The sight was an awe-inspiring andmagnificent one. The lights were so bright that the pilots andobservers could hardly distinguish the flashes of the guns which werefiring hundreds of shells at the menacing squadron.
Hovering but a few seconds above the scene of so much activity, guidedby the flaring furnaces and the blazing chimney stacks far beneath,the signal was given to release the bombs, and down through the nightair, into the fire and smoke, dropped bomb after bomb.
As they fell and exploded their flashes could be seen distinctly inspite of the blaze all about them. Great tongues of flame lickedup heavenward as if trying to reach the aircraft that had hurled thedestruction down upon the seething hives. A dull boom told of anexplosion, and the air rocked with the disturbance.
Hundreds of pounds of high explosive fell on Essen that night. Greatfires started here and there, visible to the Americans long afterthey had started for home, which they did as soon as their loadsof bombs were loosed on the factories and munition plants beneath.Enemy planes had begun to climb up to engage the daring raiders, butthe triplanes were well away before the German fliers reached anythinglike their altitude. Not one of the six bombers had been hit. Backthey flew, satisfied that damage had been wrought to the enemy plants,back by the Rhine and the Moselle, back safely to their aviation base.
At last, ahead, the pilots could see the flares lit to guide theirreturn. Each flier switched on his little light to see hisinstruments, and gracefully dropped nearer the ground. A nightlanding is always interesting. The familiar points near the airdromehave a strangely different appearance at night. Everything is vague inoutline---indistinct. Down the six machines dropped to the rows oflights, flickering in the night breeze. A last moment, then theinstant for raising the elevator, then the gentle, resilient bump asthe wheels touch the level floor of the airdrome, and the fleet is home.
It was a fine raid, well planned and splendidly executed. It did notcost our side a man nor a machine, and it spread death and destructionamong the centers that turned out the means of destruction that hadmade the world-war a thing of horror. To bomb Krupp's works! Thevery thought had a ring of retribution to it! The very name Krupphad so sinister a sound. Well might the Brighton boys be proud ofJoe for the part he had played in the inception of the idea and thework of carrying it through. They were proud. So was Joe's motherwhen she heard of it. Harry Corwin wrote home about it. He wrotethree times, as a matter of fact, before he could concoct an accountof the night flight that would pass the censor. Finally heaccomplished that feat, however, and thus Joe Little's mother heardof what her boy had done. The brave woman cried a little, asmothers do sometimes, but her eyes lit up at the thought of thelad distinguishing himself among so many brave young men. Such ason was worth the sacrifice, she thought, with a sigh. "He is hisfather's son," she said to herself. And to her came his words,spoken many months before, "And my mother's," and her heart swelledwith pride.
CHAPTER XIV
A FURIOUS BATTLE
For a time it seemed that the Brighton boys were doomed to be separated,but word came to the squadron commander in some way of the manner inwhich they had entered the service, and he so arranged matters thatthey were retained in his unit. Moreover, he saw to it that theirwork should so far as possible keep them in touch with each other.
News came one day that the squadron to which they belonged was beforelong to be transferred to the rear for a well-deserved rest, anda new lot was to take their place. The boys were speculating uponthis item of news one evening after dinner, when Joe Little said:"What a fine thing it would be if one day we all went out on thesame job! Did you fellows ever come to think of the fact that thewhole lot of us have never actually been out together once since wecame to France? I would like to see the whole lot of us have a shotat the Boches at the same time, before we quit."
"I had a letter from Archie to-day," said Jimmy Hill. "He says itwill be some time before he rejoins us."
"Well, five of us are here yet, thanks more to luck than good sense,"laughed Joe. "I think the Boche would know the five of us
were leftif we went out together and had a smack at him."
"Stranger things might happen," said Richardson, looking up from anillustrated paper. "The chief was talking only yesterday aboutsending out a combined bombing and observing expedition to savehunters. Three pilots gone sick in three days has made him short,he said. I think the lot of us want a rest, if you ask me. Withthree more fellows down there will not be such a lot of hunter pilotsto choose from. So you wonderful birds may have that chance to showoff that you're worrying about."
This sally raised a general laugh, and Bob Haines said quietly: "If abunch goes out to-morrow and we are all in it, I for one certainlyhope that you are in it, too, Richardson. I do not see any harm inthinking we are better than the German fliers. I believe we are,and I would like nothing better than to have one good combined go atBrother Boche before we leave this part of the line."
Bob said this in such a serious tone that Parker, who had come inlate and was devouring a huge plate of corned beef.---"bully," ashe called it---and a big pile of bread and butter, looked up andnodded his approval. "Me, too," Parker said, between bites.
"What we want and what we will get may be two very different things,"said Harry Corwin. "We have never built any castles in the air yetthat materialized. I guess our combined raid, much as we might enjoyit, will be a long time coming."
Harry was wrong. Two days later, the flight commander received ordersto carry out certain observation work and certain bombing work inthe same sector of the enemy's territory. The two new triplanes wereto be used as a bombing machine and an observation machine respectively.The flight commander assigned the piloting of the first machine toRichardson and the second to Bob Haines. To Bob's delight Dicky Mannwas chosen as his observer. Four of the wasp-like hunter machines,the swiftest planes in the airdrome, were to accompany the twotriplanes. The pilots selected for these four one-man fliers wereParker, Jimmy Hill, Joe Little and Harry Corwin.
The six machines were in the air before the boys realized that theyhad their wish of two nights before. The roar of the six enginesfilled the airdrome. Circling up, before the planes had risen morethan a few hundred feet, they began to take up their respectivepositions according to instructions. The two heavier machines hungcomparatively low, while the four hunters, light and agile, climbedhigher and higher, above and on each side of the larger machinesbelow them. The great wing spread of the triplanes, and the huge,ugly fuselage of the bombing machine, were in sharp contrast to thedainty, wasp-bodied hunters.
Richardson's little major sat behind the machine-gun that was mountedon the front of the fuselage of the big bombing machine. There weresufficient high explosive bombs at his feet and suspended aroundthe cock-pit of the fuselage to do great damage if properly directed.Dicky Mann was perched out on the very nose of the observation plane.On one side of him was his Lewis gun, on the other his camera. Thegreat power of the triplanes had made it possible for the fuselageon each one to be lined with light splinter-proof armoring, which gavethe occupants an added sense of security.
The four hunters sailed high out of sight of the two big triplanes.It was a day of spotted clouds, a day of a sort of hide-and-seekin the air. Up twenty thousand feet, nearly four miles above ground,the quartette made for the appointed place, then took up their positionsand circled round waiting for developments.
Bob and Dicky, in the observation plane, were after certain definitephotographs, and the lower cloud strata made it necessary for themto drop lower than usual to obtain that of which they were in search.The Boche "Archies" burst shells all about them, but Bob kept theswift machine maneuvering in such manner that to hit it requiredgreat good fortune on the part of the German gunners. The _pop!__pop!_ _pop!_ of the anti-aircraft shrapnel and the _whizz!_ of thepieces of shell went almost unnoticed by the two boys, so intent werethey on their quest. Once bits of shell tore through one of theplanes, and once a few stray bits rattled against the light armorof the fuselage.
Richardson and the major, in the other triplane, had climbed to agreater height. Richardson's instructions were to get into acertain position as soon as possible and drop several hundred poundsof high explosive on a big munition dump. Experience had taught himthat to be at a good height above an exploding dump was advisable.Once before he had nearly been wrecked by the explosion of a Germanmunition depot, which had caused a commotion in the air for thousandsof feet above it.
Just as Bob and Dicky were circling around the spot they were bent onphotographing, and Richardson and the major were loosing off theirmessengers of destruction toward the munition dump they had set outto destroy, the four men in the hunters, at twenty thousand feet,were beginning to feel the cold. Parker, whose job it was to givethe signals for action to his little fleet, dipped his plane slightlyand peered downward to see what was taking place below. His facefelt as if it was pressed to a block of ice. Surely some enemyscouts would be on hand soon.
As Parker circled round, his eyes searching the sky below him, sevenBoche fighting machines came hurtling down from the north.
They had been hidden by fleecy, spotty clouds for a few moments,and were already too near to the two triplanes below. Parker wavedhis wing tips, which was his signal to his three companions in thehunting machines that the fight was on, and headed toward the oncomingfleet of seven. Joe Little was the first of the other three to seetheir adversaries, and was not far behind Parker. Next came JimmyHill, with Harry Corwin bringing up the rear.
The splendid planes rushed to the attack as though they knew thenecessity for speed. Their engines purred smoothly, singing a vicioussong, as they worked up their speed to more than a hundred miles anhour. The four American hunters were high above the seven Germanmachines. Then the time came to drop downward. Parker first, andthe other three in turn, dipped the noses of their planes. Theadded assistance of gravity lent swiftness to their flight untilthey were swooping down on the enemy at little less than one hundredand fifty miles an hour. The Boches at first seemed so intent upontheir quarry, the two triplanes, that they were like to be takencompletely by surprise by the four wasps from the upper air. Thenthey saw the descending quartette. Parker, ahead, with one hand onhis controls and the other on his Lewis gun, made direct for thefirst Boche of the seven. The moment he was within range he opened fire.
Parker was going at such speed that the fifty rounds he loosed offapparently missed his opponent, in spite of the fact that but fortyyards separated them when the last bullet left Parker's gun. TheGerman went down in a clever spiral for a couple of thousand feet.When he flattened out, however, Parker, who had dived with andafter him, was close behind. More, he was in an ideal position,from which he fired another fifty rounds. These steel messengersreached their billet, and the German flier went straight down toearth.
But while Parker had been dropping with eyes on the first Boche, thesecond had dropped after Parker. Parker reached for a new drum forhis Lewis gun, and as he did so the second Boche, who had got onParker's tail, let go at close range. The hunter was riddled. Parkerfelt that he was hit, but not badly. That was his impression, atleast, at the moment. He spun his hunter round and dropped sheerfor a thousand feet, coming up in a fairly thick bank of white cloud.He there flattened out again and began climbing, not being sure ofhis altitude. No sooner had his engine begun to drone out therhythm of its full power, and the good hunter-plane begun to risemajestically, than what should he see but the second enemy fighterright in front of him! A new drum was in place on his Lewis gun,and he let go. The Boche pilot threw up both hands and fell back,and down into the cloud went the enemy plane, clearly out of controland quickly out of sight.
Parker examined himself as well as he could, but was unable to locatehis wound. It was in his back somewhere, for he felt a stiffnessand numbness all down his spine, but he still could move his arms,and felt no faintness. He decided that it must be merely a scratch,and climbed up as fast as he could to get into the fray again.
The other thre
e American hunters had engaged in close, desperateencounters to a man. Joe Little was lucky enough to bring down hisadversary and circled round toward the two triplanes, which hadboth finished their work and were climbing fast to get out of therange of the "Archies." Jimmy Hill had missed his man, who wentdown in a spiral, Jimmy spinning down after him. Owing to thegreater pace at which Jimmy was traveling he had to make a widerspiral. The Boche flattened out and Jimmy dived for him again,but before he could come within range the German dived straightdown to the ground and safety, where he appeared to land in suchmanner as to show that he had suffered but little, if any, damage.Jimmy was treated to an exceptionally severe salvo of "Archies"before he could get well up again, and was slightly wounded in thecheek by a shrapnel splinter. Harry Corwin's adversary fired atHarry, and Harry fired at him, but neither made a hit, so far ascould be seen. The Boche was soon lost in a cloud for which hewas heading, and Harry circled back to find his fellows.
Meantime two of the German fighting machines had kept on for the bigtriplanes. They were heading for fast, powerful machines, wellarmed, but they dashed at them as though they had no fear of result.The first German machine to score a hit was a fast Albatros. Itdived straight at Richardson's machine. Richardson side-slippedand dropped like a stone till close to the ground. Not a singleGerman who watched his drop, whether watching from the air or fromthe ground, dreamed that the big machine was still under control.Just before it seemed about to crash into the earth, however, Richardsonrighted it, and heading for home, skimmed the ground at a heightof not more than fifty feet above the ground. The doughty littlemajor poured round after round of bullets from his machine-gun atthe heads of the Huns in the trenches and dugouts as the fleeingplane passed close over the astonished Germans, and the whole thingwas over before anyone except the two occupants of the plane realizedwhat was taking place.
Not a single shot from the thousands fired hit the brave young pilot,though the major was not quite so fortunate, having been wounded inthe wrist by a ball from the machine-gun of the flier who attackedthem from the Albatros. How they escaped death at his hands theyhardly knew, for he had poured a veritable storm of lead into themat close range, and made dozens of holes in one or other of the threeplanes. Richardson's arrival with the major at the home airdromewas the first news to come back of the fight in the air. The majorreported that they had satisfactorily performed their part of thework and escaped with but little damage. The Boche ammunition dumpthey were to assail had been blown into a thousand fragments, thedetonation of the explosion having been heard for miles.
Meanwhile, Bob Haines and Dicky Mann in the other triplanes werehaving an exciting fight with another Albatros. Bob had chosen tomeet the Boche attack head on. Dicky was a good shot, and triedhis best to wing their fleet antagonist, but failed to hit him.Perhaps the readiness of the two Americans to meet the attack,however, had somewhat disconcerted the German's aim, for he too,missed the triplane.
The spotty clouds made the fighting in-and-out work that morning.The four hunters were still in commission, as was the observationtriplane. Three Boche fliers of the seven had been accounted for,and a fourth driven down. Things looked very good for the Brightonboys, but they were over enemy territory and by no means "out ofthe woods" yet. A speedy Boche trio which had apparently not beforeseen the Americans suddenly dived from a good height and the fightbegan all over again.
In the melee of looping, side-slipping and nose-diving that ensuedBob got his big triplane headed for home and started off at highspeed. This left the four hunters to their own devices, with no othertroubles than to down such German antagonists as they might encounter,and to get their own machines safely home if they could.
But none of the four liked to start for home until he was sure theothers of his group were all right and ready to come back with him.The spotty clouds were responsible for a bit of delay. Parkerwas nowhere to be seen. Joe, Harry, and Jimmy circled round onceor twice, undecided what to do, and at that moment Parker came climbingback from a dead-leaf drop, having shaken off his Boche pursuers, andgave the signal for the home flight. Home they turned, and asthey did so, four big Albatrosses, a section of the first group theyhad met, joined to two of the second group, came at them. Withoutany concerted idea of action Joe, Jimmy, and Harry looped straightover simultaneously, every one of the three performing a perfectloop and coming right side up at the same moment. Each of them,also, fired a round at the Boche immediately in front of himand made off for home at top speed.
Parker did a side-wing drop, and as he did so felt a sharp pain inhis back. His arms lost their power. A bullet had lodged in hisback, and worked its way, urged, perhaps, by the pressure of theboy's back against the seat cushion, to some spot more vital thanthat in which it had first lodged. From an apparently harmlesswound, and certainly a painless one, Parker's hurt had become soserious as to prove mortal. For, try as he would, he could notmove his arms to right his machine. Down he dropped, mercifullylosing consciousness as his machine shot toward the earth, and crashing,at last, so fiercely into the ground that naught remained of hishunter and its gallant pilot but a twisted mass of wreckage anda still form maimed out of all recognition. Parker had paid thegreat price, after a gallant fight.
The other three hunters carried their pilots safely home, able toreport that Joe and Jimmy had each accounted for one of the fourAlbatrosses that had last attacked them.
Three days later their squadron was moved back, and its place takenby a fresh unit. Jimmy Hill was sent to hospital with his slit cheek,but was soon out and about again.
Less than a fortnight later all five of the boys, Joe, Bob, Jimmy,Harry, and Dicky, were on leave in London. The night after theirarrival on the English side of the Channel, Archie Fox, now aconvalescent, invited them to dinner at the Royal Overseas OfficersClub, where the six Brighton boys foregathered merrily.
Dinner over, Joe proposed a toast of "the folks at home." The boysdrank it silently. Then Bob Haines rose and raised his glass.
"Let us drink to the luck of the Brighton lot," he said. "May itnever entirely desert us."
As they rose and raised their glasses Dicky Mann added: "May wealways be ready to give that luck a fighting chance."
Six strong right hands reached forth to grasp another of the six.Six pairs of bright eyes flashed as each caught an answering flashsomewhere round the circle. Six hearts beat with the same stoutdetermination as Joe Little voiced their united sentiments when hesaid in a low tone, "Amen to that. We will."
THE END
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